


Gallavich Fluff

by drjekyllandmrhyde10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:04:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8641717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drjekyllandmrhyde10/pseuds/drjekyllandmrhyde10
Summary: Changed summary because Gallavich said so. So, short drabbles/stories about the two. And it is anything under the sun.





	1. Tangled in Bed

Mickey rubbed his upper lip while listening to Mandy. His sister was telling him stories too far-fetched to be true. But hey, she's his sister, he'd believe her no matter what.

A story that consisted of a Gallagher and her boobs. 

What an odd combination.

From what he was able to catch of her stories, amidst her cries and moans, that Gallagher touched her boobs and other places that even he neither want to touch nor hear.

When Mandy repeated her story for the nth time, Mickey had enough. He abruptly stood up and gathered his older brother. Among the Milkoviches, he's the one with the brain so planning and execution were his forte. Though there's nothing to plan anyway, all they had to do was get their bats and attack Kash n Grab. Mickey still wanted to say his plan to his brothers though. He felt smart with that.

If there's one thing that Mickey was proud of, it was his well-thought ploy to avoid any mistakes or accidents. His father taught him that if a man was about to do a heinous crime, no evidence should be pointed back at him. Nothing should go wrong with the way of life of the Milkoviches. Everything should be planned out, everything should be smooth sailing. No pit stops, no gas stops. Just one hell of a long and straight high way.

 

"Can I stay here?" Ian turned his head to the side to peek at Mickey. The latter was lying on his back, the comforter tucked between his arms, covering his chest. He looked at the red head.

"Why?" He asked.

Ian shrugged, not knowing what to say. There were so many ways he could answer the question; however, he knew none would appeal to the brunette. It was one thing that they were able to fuck in Mickey's room.

Maybe, it was asking too much if he stayed for the night.

Mickey huffed. Ian noticed how the man's eyes shifted to the side. He could have interpreted the action as something that Mickey had always done if he didn't want to talk about anything.

He could have dismissed the notion that the man didn't want him to stay there. But Micky blushed.

Mickey Fucking Milkovich blushed. It was so obvious from the way the color went up from his neck to his cheeks. Mickey's ears were so red too. And Ian found them adorable.

But he'd rather bite his tongue than say those things to the brunette. He still wanted his dick attached to his body, thank you very much.

Ian's confidence doubled up upon seeing that cute reaction. He nudged the shorter man's right leg. 

"What?!" Mickey snarled.

He smiled back. "Can I?" He asked again.

"You have not answered my question. Why?"

Ian moved to his side to face Mickey. "Because I want to spend the night with you." He tucked his arm under his head so he could see Mickey's face clearly. "Because the morning was not enough for me."

Ian could feel Mickey's eyes boring into him and he stared back. After a minute or two, Mickey brushed his upper lip and stood up. He turned on his back to see the smaller man wearing boxer shorts and sleeveless shirt. 

He was about to ask if Mickey got mad when suddenly the man turned around. With Mickey's permanent scowl and face with deep shade of crimson, Ian heard him.

"Okay."

And Mickey immediately went out, whispering. "I'll get a beer."


	2. Coffee Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey Milkovich doesn't do coffee

It was a cold November morning when Ian abruptly opened his eyes. He saw through bleary eyes his older brother Lip on the upper deck of the bed situated on the other side of the room while Carl was sprawled on the lower part. Ian listened intently on any sound downstairs.

Everything was quiet.

Which, in Ian's opinion totally unusual on the Gallagher's house.

"Kids! Breakfast!" Ian smiled upon hearing Fiona's voice. Now that's what he's been looking for. Carl's eyes opened up, Lip threw the blanket aside and they both jumped off the bed.

"Hey! Fucker! Get up before this midget finishes all toast." Lip shouted behind.

"I am not a midget!" Carl responded back, which earned him a smack on the head.

Ian smiled on his brothers' antics; however, instead of getting up, he fished for his phone buried in the blankets. His smile widened upon seeing one message.

Mickey : Are you up?

Ian snorted and looked down.

Ian : It is up.

Mickey : Fucker. What you doin' now?

Ian : Still on the bed. Guys downstairs having breakfast. Want 2 join me?

Mickey : Stop with the shortcuts. I don't like that.

Ian : Sorry. :-(

Mickey : AND STOP WITH THAT DRAWING OF SMILE OR SAD SMILE OR WHATEVER.

Ian snickered. It was really easy to rile Mickey up. The man was hesitant with the text messages before; they even ended up having an argument when one time Mickey didn't bother to reply to his message for one whole day.

Mickey was adjusting for him. If that's not the sweetest thing Ian ever saw from the smaller man.

Ian : I'm going to your house now.

Mickey : Beat you firecrotch. Already here outside your house.

Ian stood up immediately upon reading the message. Hastily picking up clothes thrown every where, he went directly to the bathroom and gargled some mouthwash.

"Where's the fire?" Ian heard Fiona. His family looked at him, shocked that he was running downstairs when earlier he was lounging his ass on the bed. Ian blushed.

"Ugh...I'm going out." He said, hands scratching his nape in embarrassment.

Lip snorted then resumed eating. 

"I saw Mickey Milkovich hanging outside. Are you friends with him now?" Fiona mentioned while handing Liam his breakfast. Lip snorted again.

Ian glanced at his older brother while thinking of any excuse. It's not that he was hiding about whatever was going on between him and Mickey but his sister had this tendency to go mother hen on all of them once she learned something new was going on. He's not ready to hear Fiona saying that a Milkovich was not good for him.

He had decided long ago that Mickey was really not good for him. But he chose to live dangerously. He chose Mickey, end of story.

"Y-yeah. He was asking me about ROTC and some shit." Ian answered. Lip snorted for the third time before Ian gave up and smacked his older brother's head. "I really got to go. You know, not wanting my head bashed in if I'm late. Ugh...later!" Ian escaped through the back door.

The first thing that Ian saw when he turned a corner was Mickey smoking on an alleyway. The man was wearing multiple clothes and a thick wool scarf. He found it funny that beneath the Southside thug that Mickey showed to every one was a soft and easy to get cold human being. Mickey was really cute. And that's one secret Ian knew he'd take to the grave.

Ian saw Mickey threw the cigarette, rubbing his hands together to keep warm. "What took you so long?" Ian heard the man. He walked near and towered on the smaller man. "What the fuck are you doin---"

Ian pulled Mickey's arm and dragged them on the inner part of the alleyway. Where no one could see them. He then leaned forward and smashed his face on the man.

Mickey's mouth was cold. It tasted of coffee, cigarette and something else that Ian knew he'd forever associate with the brunette. He felt Mickey's hands on his waist as he was pulled closer and the sudden cold that he was feeling earlier vanished into thin air. Ian didn't even know why he bothered with a jacket.

The kiss was quick but it left them both breathless. Ian opened his eyes first and saw Mickey's were still close. He could see small puffs of cold air coming off the man's lips and he wanted to kiss them again. Mickey slowly opened his eyes and his pupils were blown wide while registering Ian's face.

"Good morning." Ian greeted. He rubbed his nose on Mickey's that earned him a light punch on the stomach. His smiled widened. "Let's have some coffee?"

Mickey groaned. Ian noticed how unfocused the man's eyes were. The pupils were still blown wide but mainly focused on him. "What do you say huh?" Ian asked again.

Mickey didn't say anything, which bothered Ian a little. He was about to ask him again when Mickey grabbed the back of his head and smashed their lips again.

Ian could feel his tongue being attacked and he moaned at the sensation of it. Mickey's mouth now was warm and it was something that Ian won't get tired of exploring. It was like the thug's lips were a sinful adventure and Ian only had the VIP ticket.

He was more than willing to take a tour.

"Ian..." He heard Mickey moaned. 

"Yeah?"

Mickey pushed the man away and sneered. "I don't DO coffee. But..." He looked down and saw the impressive bulge straining the red head's pants. "We are too much awake now, don't you think?" 

Ian laughed at that. He pushed Mickey away so they could both go back to the smaller man's house and continue what they were planning to do on that alleyway.

Fuck coffee. Ian learned he could also not DO coffee anymore.


	3. Into the dug out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey learned what shot gun means

Mickey was in his room, playing with his mobile phone while waiting for a certain red head to message him. It was one thing that he'd been taught how to use a phone but it was more than for him to wait for either a text or call from the fucker. As much as he wanted to suppress this ill-feeling, he sometimes thought that Ian managed to make him look like a dog---waiting for him to be beckoned.

And Mickey didn't like that. He knew that he had nothing to offer to the taller man. But it didn't mean that Ian was much better than him. They both lived on the Southside, they had dirt in their lives one way or another.

Giving up on waiting and thinking nonsense things, Mickey went outside. He saw his brothers coming in with plastic bags filled with beer cans.

"You fuckhead, join us." Iggy shook the bag, showing Mickey the contents inside. 

"Any food in there?" He asked while scratching his aching stomach. Earlier, Ian promised that he'd bring food once he's done bringing Liam to school. Then Mickey received another message saying that he'd come later in the afternoon. 

It's already past four in the afternoon and no communication from the motherfucker. Mickey made a vow to make Ian suffer once they see each other again. 

Meanwhile, he's gonna get hammered and forget the fucker's face.

"Nah. But lemme teach you younger brother how to shotgun." Iggy and Joey both placed their arms around his much to his irritation.

 

Ian : I am here outside your house.

Mickey : Hu d fuck r u?

Ian : Ah...Mick?

Mickey : This not Mick. Mickey's plastered.

Ian : Who's this please?

Mickey : Y d fuck u caer?

Ian huffed and didn't respond anymore. It could be one of Mickey's brother since no way Mickey's going to message him like that. He knew that he's screwed up when he wasn't able to make it earlier when he already promised Mickey a lunch date---even if the smaller man denied it to no end. 

He read the exchange of messages again and sighed. Okay, redemption could wait since it seemed that Mickey made sure to drink himself blind instead of waiting for him.

 

"Hello...?" Mickey croaked. He found himself by morning on the couch with nothing but his boxers on and a massive headache. He was also sporting the biggest boner he ever had.

"Hi." He heard Ian tentatively greeted on the other side.

"Ian?" 

"Yeah." 

"Why the fuck is your voice like that?" Mickey rubbed his eyes. He could feel his boner going down upon hearing Ian's struggling voice. 

Mickey could hear some shuffling on the other line and a kid's voice shouting for Ian's name. It probably was Carl. The fucking midget could shatter an eardrum just by talking.

"Well, I sort of texted you last night and I think it was your brother that replied to me." 

Mickey tsked while looking around for smokes. All he saw were beer cans still on the bag. "Oh yeah? Well it was your fault fucker."

He heard the man sighed again. "I know. I'm sorry Mick. I was just caught up with the inventory at Kash n Grab. I forgot the time." Ian explained. Mickey could imagine the red head going down the stairs, scratching his head while giving out the best explanation he could. Mickey could see in his head Ian grabbing a toast and munching on it.

"I'll make it up to you. Dug out now?" And Mickey was not wrong as he could hear on the other line the man's garbled voice. He'd cut off his tongue first before he admitted that he was observing Ian too much that he had the taller man's actions memorized.

"Bring breakfast." Mickey demanded. He bet inside his head that Ian would smile.

"Yes sir." He internally groaned when he was right again.

Fuck that shotgun, he ain't doing it again. Without Ian that is.


	4. An innocent camera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day when the camera's innocence was shattered into million pieces.

"Fuck you is what you're invited to." Mickey irritatingly shoved the box he was holding while looking at the shocked red head standing on the other end of the store. It was supposed to be inventory day but since Ian started complaining about the group home that the taller man landed into, they settled in restocking the empty shelves.

Mickey, for the life of him, couldn't really imagine the other man being in juvie if for the sake of wanking his dick became the topic for almost half of the day. Though he doubted if Ian would land himself in the can. The man was a goody two shoes compared to his own dark records. 

Nope. Ian was like the walking gay sunshine while he, Mickey, was the opposite of it. And Mickey knew it. Kind of like a toothache in his mind, disturbing his every day thought process, bugging his calm head whenever his brain took a detour to a certain red head---which usually happened every five fucking minutes. Though he's not THAT stupid to admit it out loud.

It was enough that Ian was not disturbed with how he acted towards him but now, Ian's face light up every time he snarled. Mickey didn't know if Ian was a masochist or developed it as they went on with their relationship.

Stop! Not a relationship. Nothing of that sort. Nope. Never. 

Mickey do not do relationship.

 

"What are you doing?" Mickey looked behind him when he felt Ian's warm hands on his hips. The man was pushing him towards the freezer and suddenly Mickey felt some dryness on his throat.

Ian stared at his eyes, probing. Mickey almost fidgeted. "What?!" He said in defense. He didn't know why his shackles were up when all the man did was look at him.

Of course, Ian smiled when he raised his voice. The fucker.

"If I was invited to a sleep over---"

"I SAID, it is NOT a sleep over"

"---I'd rather have a taste of what to expect later. Like uhm...an appetizer." Ian sneered. Mickey rolled his eyes. 

"Why the fuck you asking an appetizer for?"

"Mick...that's how food are served in a restaurant." Mickey could feel that Ian was patronizing him with the way the taller man was giving the explanation. "First off, an appetizer..." Ian pushed Mickey's hips towards the freezer. Ian placed his elbows in between Mickey's head, lower hips leaning towards the smaller man, face almost so close to Mickey's lips.

Mickey looked at it. "You gonna kiss me here? Do you still want your balls attach to your body firecrotch?" 

"Awww Mick...you love my balls too much." Ian sneered before crushing his lips to Mickey's. 

And to Mickey's horror, he moaned. Despite his internal struggle, he felt his hips automatically pushed forward. His hands grabbed Ian's hips and he pulled the man closer to him. Their half-hard cocks brushed softly beneath their pants and Mickey swore he felt his legs wobble. 

Ian's hands grabbed the either side of Mickey's head and he could feel the man's forefingers brushing his ears. Mickey would curse Ian later on when he's all coherent and his tongue was not being eaten whole since the man had been consistent in playing with his ears ever since Ian found out that weakness.

But Mickey decided that he'd do the scolding later. In the meantime, he'd have to make Ian take care of his raging boner. Either at the back of the store or right then and there. With Ian's tongue almost roamed his entire mouth and now poking on his tonsils, Mickey thought that anywhere would be fine with him.

If only he could reach that goddamn camera who Mickey thought looked like a peeping Tom with the way it's lens were focused on them.

He wondered who was watching them on the monitor. Probably Linda. Or one of her kids.

Mickey snickered to himself, they were in for a nice and long ride. Just like him.


	5. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of hours after Mickey crossed the border.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still can't move on after 7x11

A can of beer rolled off Mickey's hand as he lost consciousness. A day had passed and he didn't even managed finding his next contact. 

What he did first after crossing the border was find a convenience store, bought himself a six-pack and decided emptying them one by one without any food in his stomach.

Of course, he got wasted immediately. He didn't even manage pulling the blanket he got in his bag to wrap himself as he fell asleep. 

Mickey so wanted to forget. He emptied each can with gusto. Each beer quenched the anger bubbling inside him. Each drop of the cold drink calmed the ache in his heart. The tiny twinge growing bigger as the sun slowly descended. 

And as the moon hover above, Mickey was crying himself to sleep. And that's when his limbs softened and the beer rolled off his hands.

He was so wasted, he didn't feel the cold. Maybe he was numbed after all.

Mickey decided as he slowly succumbed to sleep, he'd learn how to move on. Tomorrow, he'd learn how to forget Ian. Tomorrow, he'd go to Antonio, Carlo's cousin, and find a job. Tomorrow, he'd look for an apartment. Tomorrow, he'd find a way to settle down.

Because Mickey ain't coming back to America. Not even if things cooled down there. Even if he's no longer a fugitive. Even if the police stopped looking for him.

Mickey's not coming back. Ever.

When he said to Ian that he didn't have any reason to stay in Chicago, he meant it. Fate just twisted his words and made them literal. 

Ian left him. Again. The same way the red head broken up with him. Ian made him expect. Ian made him believe that finally, after being deprived of everything, he'd get the only thing he ever wanted.

But no, the gods---if there was even one---still punished him. Mickey gave one final snort and yawned. Yeah, the gods probably thought that he never deserved to be happy. 

So they took Ian away. They modified whatever book of fate written for him and made him alone. Again.

He even planned everything out. From the moment he knew he could get out until getting Ian and have them both transported to Mexico.

Mickey scratched his thigh, feeling a slight pain on his ass as he moved. Remembering the last night Ian fucked him. The last time Ian held him. The last time he knew Ian would smell him while they were sleeping.

And fresh tears started to seep through his closed eyes. He tried to lift his hand to wipe his face but the numbness inside stopped him. 

Maybe he should let go. Maybe he should let the tears fall. There's no one to see him anyway. And Mickey felt the more alone now. 

"Fuck it." He muttered, sudden dizziness engulfed him when he tried to change position. The car was small but he fit in. This car was the only place he could fit. He couldn't even fit in the life of one Ian Gallagher. Probably because the man was made for bigger life. Ian was made for a higher purpose. While he, a fugitive, could count crossing the Mexico border, the best feat of his life. This was already a success for a Milkovich. He should be proud.

Sleep was starting to lull him. His breathing started to relax. He should give in. Stop controlling what cannot be controlled. Like Ian. Like the love he had for the man. Like his love was enough for the two of them. Like his 'us' was different to Ian's 'us'.

Tomorrow he'd move on. Tomorrow he'd no longer be Mickey Milkovich. He'd change his name tomorrow. He'd change his life starting tomorrow.

And maybe, if he buried Mickey Milkovich tomorrow, he could start burying Ian Gallagher too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I couldn't write fluff and I don't know why I added it here. I'm sad so I'm spreading it. Teehee!


	6. Tomorrow Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the time when Ian was looking at the car crossing the Mexico border.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try doing a first person POV. Because up until now, I'm still stuck at 7x11.

I heaved a breath. I knew this moment would come; thought about it a lot. Actually, I imagined this exact moment since I decided to come with you. 

I just never thought it would hurt this much.

When I went out the car while you were changing inside, I tried so hard not to look across the border. I tried not to imagine what life awaited us. If there was even a life waiting for us.

You promised the sun, the beach, tequilla and joint. The kind of life we always wanted. And I pursed my lips, stopping myself from telling you that that was no longer the life I wanted for myself. Why? Why I couldn't stop you at that time? 

Because somehow, I could totally see it. A life on the run. And despite my brain telling me it was wrong, my heart was telling me it was right. 

Because I was with you. And if there's one thing I wanted in my whole life, it was to be with you.

And yet, I didn't want that kind of life. I didn't want that kind of life for you. I wanted you to be different. I wanted the better version of life for you. And I knew you wouldn't want it as long as I am with you. 

In that sudden moment of realization while I was waiting for you to wear that stupid stockings, I realized that we were both living the past. We were living the past because we were the past. 

The bad version of you. The bad version of me. Together, we were worst. 

It was disheartening seeing you like this. A fugitive. Always on the run. Always on edge. Always hiding. You once told me that you only felt free when I was with you. 

But things changed Mick. I am no longer that person that could give you freedom. I felt that I am the person that kept you locked down. I am your prison.

That's why here I am, not moving while you were asking me to get behind the wheels and drove off. Here I am deciding that maybe, we were better apart. Maybe you could have the freedom that you always wanted away from me.

So when the time was right for us to see each other again, we'd be both free.

Tomorrow, I'd message you. Tomorrow, I'd ask you how's Mexico. Tomorrow, I'd tell you that I love you. Again. And again. Starting tomorrow, I'd tell you that you should move on and if the fate still wanted us to be together, I'd look for you. I knew you'd never believe me, but I'd make you. 

I could still feel your lips on me even if the car with you in it no longer visible in my eyes. I could still see the acceptance in your eyes when you heard the words I couldn't say. I wish I was able to convey them clearly when I kissed you.

Because I love you Mick. I never stopped to be honest. And I'd make this grow. I'd let you grow. We'd grow together apart. Because I believe that when I see you again, we'd both be ready.

I made this promise as I looked far from the borders. I couldn't see your car anymore Mick. You turned the car right and drove on. But I wanted you to hear my silent promise Mick.

I'd find you.


	7. Messages on a Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian received the first message after a month. He's not waiting for it but he didn't say his smile widened upon seeing the familiar photo on his notification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn't be continuing the story based on the canon but I can't help it . Sorry...

Ian was washing the dishes that he and Trevor used earlier when he heard the familiar ping of his phone. He didn't pay any heed thinking that it might just be one of his colleague from work. A few minutes after, when he was already drying his hands, a second ping made him check the gadget. 

He almost dropped the phone when he saw the photo beside the notification icon.

Ian immediately went to his room, locked the door and sat on the bed. The smiling face of Mickey Milkovich, which he captured while they were on the car going to Texas, continued to tease him as he contemplated whether to open the message or not. It had been sometime since he saw the photo, he almost forgot that the man's phone number was set up like that. While deciding on how to resolve this pathetic dilemma, another ping appeared.

Mickey : the fuck you're not answering? Ass too busy to bother? I get it. Fuck you Gallagher.

Ian swiped the phone screen open and immediately typed his response. 

Ian : I was thinking if this is real.

He stared at his phone, waiting for another message. Ian could feel the soft beating of his heart. A little breathless as if he ran a marathon, he could tell that he was anticipating the next words that Mickey would send him. Giving up, Ian typed again.

Ian : sorry Mick. im washing dishes and i didn't answer fast.

He looked around his room, thinking what else could he say. Normal things he could mentioned to the fugitive that may or may not be still running in hiding even in Mexico. To be honest, there were so many things he should say. Words that he swallowed while looking at the departing figure near the Mexico borders. 

Words that had occupied his mind ever since he came home. And that's almost a month ago. The words never failed to suddenly appear in his mind specially on days when he had nothing to do but look around. Ian just realized that Southside had Mickey Milkovich and Ian Gallagher written all over it. Everywhere he went, he could see Mickey. The things they did, the things they did not, the things they should have done. Even a simple van that he saw while driving around made him think about the smaller man.

Ian : im sorry Mick. Please tell me you are okay. please.

Ian waited. The sun has set and his family was already home. Trevor brought dinner for all of them and Ian still looked down at his phone while eating. Fiona asked him what was going on and he said nothing while checking discreetly at his phone again. Trevor already went home. Liam was tucked in his bed, Lip went upstairs to sleep off his hangover, Fiona was done computing Patsy's earnings for the day.

And he still didn't receive any reply from Mickey.

Since he couldn't sleep, restlessness filling his brain, he went down and grabbed a beer. He settled himself outside and pulled off his phone from his jacket. Still nothing.

Ian rubbed his eyebrow while holding the beer bottle on the same hand. He could feel the stress building up. Probably it had been there since he let Mickey leave alone; he just focused more on not focusing on it for awhile. But now...now that Mickey contacted him again, he didn't want it to stop. He didn't want not knowing anything about Mickey. He sent another message.

Ian : mick...please

He stared at the screen. The cold moist of his beer dripped slowly on his arm. Ian was about to give up after waiting for almost the whole day when a silent sound made his heart beat fast.

Mickey : hey.

Ian : mick...can i call you?

Mickey : suit yourself Gallagher.

And that's all it took for Ian to place his beer bottle beside him, dialed Mickey's number and waited for two rings before he heard the familiar voice on his ear.

"Hi..."

"Hi Mick...I---I miss you."

"Hmmm...I miss you too Ian."


	8. The fuck you lookin' at

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was always Ian looking at Mickey for reasons the latter could not comprehend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a photo I saw in IG.

It was always a mystery for Mickey why the fuck Ian loved staring at him. And it was not just a simple look wherein you're gonna look away once you had your fill. Nope. The man looked at him for hours. As if obvious changes would appear suddenly on his face. As far as Mickey was aware, his dumb face had been the same since they first met. Well minus bruises and cuts that healed over time.

"What you lookin' at?!" Mickey had enough. He turned to his side to face Ian, who was also turned towards him. The man was freaking him out. Ever since they landed together on the bed and fucked their brains out, the man never stopped staring at him. 

Ian smiled. A pure one if Mickey categorized it. For as long as he could remember, Ian had mastered the one million ways of smiling. And this one now was pure satisfaction, almost a smug.

"You got a new mole." Ian muttered and touched the subject. It was on Mickey's lower mouth. He tried to remove it by rubbing his lips. "Hey...stop that." Ian pulled his hand away from his face.

"Still there?" Mickey asked. He could feel Ian's thumb running on his abused lips.

"What do you expect Mick? Moles don't go away." Ian replied, smile widening. Smug asshole. "You had a sunburn here..." The hands roamed on his upper ear. Mickey, beyond mortified now that Ian could see those that even he couldn't, pulled away.

"Stop that." He chastised.

Ian breathed deeply, tucking his long arm beneath his head. "Sorry."

Mickey felt guilty afterwards. The man was not doing anything wrong. He was just conscious that such simple things such as finding a mole on his face could turn out as a gayfag romantic for Ian. And Mickey could feel the heat spreading from his toes upwards. That iced the cake, he was embarassed.

"Just...you don't stop staring even if I call you out. Fucks wrong with my face huh?" He almost snorted when Ian's eyes softened. Those eyes that continued to stare.

Ian stretched his arms and pulled Mickey in his chest. The shorter man didn't protest even if he wanted to. What? He's tired okay? And it was a little bit cold inside the room that their comforter was not enough. 

So Mickey laid his head on Ian's chest. The thin fingers cascaded through his hair and Mickey could feel the impending sleep. He could feel Ian's heartbeat. The soft staccato thudding on the man's chest. Mickey liked the sound of it. He didn't know why but he knew that hearing a heartbeat meant someone was alive. And he knew that Ian was very much alive now.

"I just like staring at you Mick. I don't know. I find your face pretty okay?" Mickey felt Ian's hand stopping his head from raising so he could mutter how stupid Ian was. "Don't argue with me on that. No matter what you say, I still see you as beautiful. Shut up and take it." Ian pulled Mickey's other arm and draped it tightly on his hips. 

"I am the only one that could see you like this." Ian continued to whisper. His arms now brushing Mickey's. He leaned away and stared at the older man's confused face. "I'm the only one that could see the changes in you. It means that we've been together for a very long time that I could see it." Ian smiled. "I don't like the idea of you changing and me suddenly knowing it after a very long time of not seeing you." He sighed. "Just like when you were in prison." Ian stared again in Mickey's eyes. "Don't come back there Mick. I don't want to see you there again. I cannot see you very well when you're on the other side of that glass." He smiled and kissed Mickey's nose, which earned him a scowl from the other man.

"Stay with me Mick. So I could see all the things that your face could do. I love watching it."

Mickey snorted. A way for him to not feel...anything. Feelings that Ian had started to stir inside him. He liked it to be honest, he just didn't want to dwell on it because it was gay as fuck and he's still a Milkovich, he still got the hard exterior to protect.

"And when you wear that mask, pretending that you didn't like what I'm sayin' right now, I like it too." Ian's eyes turned misty. "All of it Mick. Don't cover 'em up when it was just you and me. Cause I can still see it."

Mickey was speechless. Those words that Ian told him were too foreign, it took his brain a couple of few minutes to digest. And when he did, he tucked his warm face in Ian's neck. Embarassed, he whispered.

"Yeah yeah. Stare all you can and shut up." He said, tightening his embrace on Ian's waist.


	9. Christmas Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian wished on December 24 and it came true the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas spirit here I come! (even if where I am it's heavily not celebrated)

Ian was lying on his back in his room, the snow outside offered nothing in his wandering mind. Before, his family would be playing outside but now that everyone had grown up and busy with their own lives, all Ian could see where the Ball kids, Yevgeny and Liam. He missed the old Gallagher ways to be honest, specially during the holidays. He turned on his side, away from the window and slammed his head with a pillow. The silence overwhelmed him. 

He missed Mickey. The man called him last night saying that he'd be visiting Mandy today and since Ian had just seen his best friend last week, he didn't come. He'd let the Milkovich siblings bond; Mickey will be back tomorrow to celebrate Christmas with him anyway. 

As Ian felt the impending sleep, he made a ridiculous wish. He terribly missed Mickey.

 

=====GALLAVICH=====GALLAVICH=====GALLAVICH=====

"Ian! Ian! Iaaaaaaannnnnn!!!!" Ian heard someone above him chanting his name. The voice was too high pitched, resembling a kid. Thinking that it was his youngest brother Liam annoying the hell out of him, he turned away. 

"Go away Liam..."

He felt a pillow hit his head. "I ain't Liam bitch!" 

Ian's eyes opened up instantly, abruptly faced the person behind him and instead of seeing his boyfriend glaring above him, he saw a mop of strawberry blonde hair almost at the level of the bed.

"Are you getting up or should I punch my way in your sleepy head?" The kid squeaked. Ian pulled himself up and stared.

"M-Mickey?" Ian was beyond shock. The young boy looking at him terribly looked like Mickey. The same facial expression as if someone made him sniff dog poop, the cut off sleeves hanging loosely on his thin shoulders and the same stance as if there's an impending fight on the horizon.

The young Mickey snorted, cementing Ian's speculation that he was indeed looking at his boyfriend. "What are you waiting for? I want cookies now!" The kid wailed, snapping Ian awake. Left with no choice, Ian shrugged and tentatively offered his hand to the kid. 

"What the fuck Ian? Can't you see how small I am? I think this my three-year-old self. I cannot go down that huge stairs!" The young Mickey raised his tiny arms. "Carry me." He said. Which in Ian's ears sounded like a command. He almost snorted himself. Young or old Mickey, both are demanding bottoms. 

Ian carried Mickey the same way when he was carrying Liam, legs spread wide and tucked securely on his waist. He saw the kid blushed. Mickey as a kid was definitely cute.

"W-what?" Mickey snarled while blushing furiously.

Ian could't help himself and kissed Mickey's pert nose. The healthy blush sporting Mickey's face intensified that deeply amused Ian. "S-shut up." He heard young Mickey whispered.

When Ian reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Fiona running around with oven mittens on each hand. She was calling the rest of the Gallaghers outside the house. "Kids! Breakfast!" She smiled upon seeing Ian with kid Mickey on his hips. "There you are! How are you muffin?" She kissed Mickey's head. The kid smacked Fiona's lips and clutched the front of Ian's shirt.

"Go away..." Mickey muttered. The soft whimper made Ian gooey inside. Old Mickey was adorable, young Mickey was definitely an angel.

Fiona raised her hand in mock surrender before rubbing Mickey's blonde hair. "Sit down you two. Breakfast is ready." 

"Why is that bitch like that? I ain't a kid." Mickey tried fixing his hair with no success. Ian snorted while dropping Mickey in his lap. He jugged the tiny bundle of cuteness before answering. 

"Mick...you are a kid right now."

"I know. Physically yes. But I am still the same Mickey inside." The little boy answered.

That notion reminded Ian of the question bugging him since he woke up. "How did this happen Mick? Why are you a...kid all of a sudden?" 

The blue-eyed child stared at him full of mockery. "You fuckin' kidding me? You wished for this firecrotch!" 

Ian raised his eyebrow, remembering nothing. "What?"

The blonde kid sighed, looking like an adult asking for more patience from the gods. "You slept last night, wished that you could see how Christmas was celebrated in my family." Mickey hit Ian's chest with his miniature fist. "And you got this asshole! We do not celebrate Christmas. Milkoviches don't do that. So instead of you seeing MY family, you see ME...like this."

Ian still had a question. "But why were you a kid? I mean if you don't celebrate Christmas, nothing should have happened right?"

Mickey sulked and pouted. He played with the loose thread on his pants, not answering immediately. Sensing that the answer was something Ian won't be getting any sooner, he scooped some eggs and showed it to Mickey. "Eat first. Let's talk later, okay?"

"This is the age where I still believe there's Christmas. Mama made us celebrate it until before Dad comes home." Mickey raised his eyes and stared at Ian's. "I stopped believing at the age of five." He looked down at himself. "So I guess I am around 3 or 4..."

Ian didn't know how to respond to that. He was sorry for Mickey's younger self, thinking that no kid should stop believing about Christmas. But he guessed that Mickey won't appreciate it. So instead of showing how sorry he was, he smiled widely and pinched the kid's plump cheeks. Predictably, Mickey howled, which made Ian sneered and kissed the hurting face. "Let's eat!" He shouted, not commenting how Mickey blushed again.

=====GALLAVICH=====GALLAVICH=====GALLAVICH=====

Christmas in the Gallagher's house were awesome. Even if Ian terribly missed the way they all go outside to play snow while Fiona was cooking, he knew that once they all got together, they'd still celebrate the festive holiday with a bang---the Gallagher's way. While waiting for his other siblings and the Balls, he stayed with Mickey.

Not that he had a choice, the little kid got a strong hold on his pants, not letting go. He even had to coax Mickey to let go when there's a need to go to the bathroom. He was still feeling sorry for the younger version of his boyfriend but he knew that Mickey won't take any of that. The kid said that he got over time as time passed by but that didn't stop the pouting child to smack his face again when Mickey remembered Ian's wish.

"Now I don't know how long I'd stay like this." Mickey gasped, his pink lips opening up that Ian fought the urge to kiss. This was so awkward on all levels. "What if I stayed like this forever Ian? What if you grow old and I'm like, 10 years younger than you?" The kid grabbed his arm and shook it. "Ian!"

Ian smiled in response and kissed Mickey's little hands. "Don't worry. I got a feeling that it won't."

Mickey sneered. "Got a feeling eh?"

"Yep." He answered back. Ian thought that if his wish was to see how Mickey celebrated Christmas, he'd make it happen. He'd celebrate the day with Mickey and he'd make sure that the kid would enjoy every bit of it. He clapped his hands and ruffled Mickey's hair. "So," he started. "What do you want to do?"

Mickey looked back at him with those big rounded blue eyes. "Can you make me hot cocoa?"

Ian agreed, holding on to his boyfriend's small hands while they went to the kitchen. He lifted the little boy and placed him on the counter. "I didn't know that you're blond." He commented, which led Mickey combing his locks. 

"Yeah...kind of looking like a wuss when it's like this. So I dyed it black ever since." Mickey answered. His nose perked up when he smelled the delicious sweetness of the hot chocolate drink that Ian was making. Ian saw it at the corner of his eyes and couldn't help dumping a large amount of small marshmallows in the cup. Mickey almost clapped his hands.

"How do you celebrate Christmas before?" Ian asked, handing the steaming cup to the waiting kid. Mickey excitedly held the cup, winced at the temperature and dropped it again. 

He shrugged before answering. "Mama let us play outside if it snowed. Mandy was only one year old so she was sitting on Mama's lap while I play." He blew on his cup before putting out his tongue to taste the hot drink. Ian nearly swallowed, those tiny pink lips were too delectable. He turned around to wash the spoon he used for distraction.

"Ian..." Ian turned around upon hearing Mickey's soft voice. The kid's arms were raised, asking to be brought down so Ian did just that. But Mickey tightened his hold on Ian's neck and pouted his lips. "You have not kissed me yet firecrotch."

Ian almost had a heart attack. He placed Mickey on the floor and pinched his nose bridge, finding an excuse that he deemed acceptable. "Ah...Mick...you see..."

Mickey scowled. "So you don't want to kiss me huh? Should have known. Merry Christmas to you too fucker." He turned around and with stomping feet, went near the back door. Ian should have panicked when Mickey walked out on him like that if only the blonde kid could reach the door knob. He found it amusing instead but choosing neither to laugh nor to make a comment, he swooped the kid off the floor and carried him towards the living room. Protest died from Mickey's lips when Ian turned him in his back at the sofa and tickled him. He shrieked as he felt those fingers and giggle uncontrollably.

"Ian! Stop!" Mickey's tiny shrilling voice was music to Ian's ears. This was the first time he heard his boyfriend laughed like this. Not that Mickey never laughed. The older version of Mickey usually laugh when he did something nasty or bad to someone else or he needed to show false bravado in front of anyone. In short, Mickey's laugh when he got older were fake. It never reached the man's eyes. Unlike this one, this laughter was real. Full of happiness only a kid should feel. And Ian was grateful that he was able to elicit it from the kid.

"Are you still mad?" Ian asked after the laughter died down. He was heaving too. Mickey was still sprawled on the sofa, his tiny feet dangling at the edge of the chair, hiccuping from too much shouting.

"Are you gonna kiss me now?" 

Ian rubbed his face. "Mick...look at you. You're...you're three! You're a kid! I---" He laughed again. "I couldn't just kiss you like how I do when you're normal! That...that would be---"

"Horrendous. Got your point. Didn't think about that." Mickey completed his words. Ian saw the shudder and was relieved that the other man got his point. Mickey pulled himself up. "I...I just thought now that you see how I look when I was a kid...you might...you know..."

Ian's eyebrows raised. "Know what?"

Mickey snarled. "That you won't like me anymore alright? I'm not exactly the "adorable" kid you know." He even quote and unquote.

Ian sneered. "If it's legal and not to traumatizing to fuck a three-year old kid now, we won't be coming out of my room Mick." He pulled Mickey's chin and kissed the kid's cheeks. "You'll always be adorable for me. Pubes and all."

Mickey blushed, lips pouting beautifully with his toes swaying at the edge of the bed, hands clutched together. "Whatever fucker."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still thinking of continuing the one shot on the next chapter. How the two celebrated Christmas. Or I could leave it to your imagination.


End file.
